


the weight of us

by natsubaki



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 17:00:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natsubaki/pseuds/natsubaki
Summary: “After the Final, let’s end this.”Yuuri is selfish. Victor loves him anyway, and that's what makes this harder.A private moment in Barcelona.





	the weight of us

**Author's Note:**

> Now that the books have been sent out, I can post this! This fic was originally written for the [History Makers zine](http://historymakers.tictail.com/).

“After the Final, let’s end this.”

The words had stuck in Yuuri’s throat, heavy and irrevocable.

The tears had begun probably before Victor had even noticed them. Each drop that rolls off Victor’s pale eyelashes becomes a lead weight in Yuuri’s stomach. Building and building, the guilt piling up.

Even cast by sorrow, Victor is achingly beautiful. The combination claws at Yuuri’s conscience, puts him at a disadvantage although he had been the one to initiate this conversation.

His resolve wavers.

But Victor had already given him more than Yuuri could ever ask for, more than he could even imagine. It had been more than enough to skate on the same ice as Victor, although not as Yuuri had wanted: as competitors. A dream partially realized, but realized nonetheless. It would be a crime to ask for more, to deny the world the living legend of figure skating.

What matters is that Victor had seen him. Had chosen him and gifted him with his time and unfaltering attention. That Victor believes in him, far more than he believes in himself.

It is time for Yuuri to make good on his debt. One skater returning to the ice while another leaves it. A cycle completed.

Coaching fee paid with freedom.

Of all the things Victor could do, Yuuri hadn’t expected him to cry. He feels awkward and unnatural, usually accustomed to being the one crying rather than the one comforting. And just like Victor, he’s horrible at it. The scene unfolding before him is all his fault, and Yuuri knows there’s no easy way to fix this.

Victor has made him cry before, but it had never been intentional, and sometimes Victor hadn’t even known of the tears Yuuri had shed alone. Victor had been inexperienced in the language of Katsuki Yuuri—still is, in all honesty. But Yuuri had known this could only go one of two ways—anger or sadness, but acknowledged harm all the same—and that makes him a terrible person.

Anger would have been easier. Yuuri could have fought back if Victor had yelled, said things he would in time regret, but at least in the moment the parting could have felt like the right decision. Like a proper ending.

Looking at Victor now, face flushed and tears drying in trails down his cheeks, Yuuri’s not so sure anymore. Panic starts to creep in at the edges of his mind, cold seeping into his chest and creeping outward. Maybe this was a bad idea, after all. Maybe he should have waited, or kept his damn mouth shut and let Victor be the one to let Yuuri go when he inevitably tired of him. Experiments always need resolutions, after all.

But like Victor had said, Yuuri is selfish.

Yuuri slides across to sit next to Victor at the window seat, the bustle of Barcelona below forgotten, the outer curve of thighs touching. He reaches over, the gold band on his hand glinting with the movement. Gently touches Victor’s chin to guide him towards Yuuri. Victor complies but keeps his gaze cast to his lap, left hand turning his ring.

It’s strange. Endearing. A little heartbreaking. Victor doesn’t fidget.

Licking his lips, Yuuri leans in slowly. Hesitates for a brief moment when they’re only a breath apart, then leans in, closing his eyes, and brushes his lips against Victor’s. His fingertips stroke featherlight along Victor’s jaw, and then Yuuri withdraws.

Victor’s eyes are still closed when Yuuri opens his. “You’re a cruel one, Katsuki Yuuri,” Victor murmurs.

“I know,” Yuuri says, because it’s true. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be bending forward again, stealing yet another kiss. It’s tender and gentle, the barest application of pressure, lighter than the fluttering of Victor’s wet eyelashes against his cheek. Apologetic.

Victor surprises him by pulling Yuuri closer, the grip on his wrist tight, blunt nails sinking into skin. The edge of the bench digs into the backs of Yuuri’s knees as he angles his body to align with Victor’s. Victor deepens the kiss, as though the slide of mouths and tongues could exorcise him of the grief, sadness, and anger he carries.

It clutches Yuuri’s heart painfully, each sigh and nip of teeth another dagger cutting him open. Victor’s kisses are too raw, a rare shade of vulnerability Yuuri’s not prepared to deal with, and so he drags his mind away to focus on more tangible things.

The softness of Victor’s robe where one of Yuuri’s hands lies on his hips. Victor’s hair, still damp and dripping onto the towel slung about his shoulders. The press of his glasses, uncomfortable against the bridge of his nose. The slightly sweet aftertaste of spearmint toothpaste. The warmth and twisting in his gut.

The heaviness of the ring around his finger.

 _I’m so sorry_ , he wants to say.

 _I love you love you love you_ , his heart sings.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Yuuri threads his hands into Victor’s hair, brushing against his ears. Victor tilts his head, leaning into the hold. Opens his mouth and allows Yuuri entrance, breathing in tiny gasps that make Yuuri want to never let go.

There’s a wetness falling against his own cheeks, but Yuuri can’t tell if it’s only a resurgence of Victor’s tears, or if he’s started to cry as well. He wants to pause this moment, to not think about the future and its uncertainty and what it means for him and Victor. To bask in the touch and taste and sound that Victor creates—things that are his now, in the hush of their small hotel room, but that he will have to give up sooner rather than later.

His hand slips down to cradle Victor’s neck. Underneath his fingers, Victor’s heartbeat pulses steady yet not calm. They say Yuuri’s heart is made of the most fragile glass, but he feels as though he’ll shatter Victor’s if he holds too tightly.

His eyes blink open as Victor pulls away. Victor’s eyes are red at the corners, splotchy skin fading back to paleness. His eyes are still watery, and Yuuri bites back an absurd laugh, because he’s always seen an ocean in Victor’s too-blue eyes.

Victor reaches forward, and Yuuri’s vision blurs as his glasses are removed. And yet—although it seems like he’s looking at Victor through a dim haze, Yuuri can’t tear his eyes away.

It’s Victor’s turn to lean in, their noses touching, breath fanning over Yuuri’s lips. Yuuri closes his eyes, angling his face up. Meets Victor’s unspoken request. Now he knows he’s crying, thin streams of tears brimming and overflowing, because this kiss feels like loss, like something given for the last time. There’s no desperation or demand behind it, simply an offering, or perhaps a showing of maybe not quite understanding, but something like acceptance.

When they break apart, a little breathless and emotions worn threadbare, Victor buries his face in Yuuri’s shoulder. “Let's just...sleep on this, okay?” he says, his voice somber, “We don't need to decide now. There are other things we need to focus on.”

Yuuri finds himself nodding, his hands gently carding through Victor’s hair. It’s almost dry now. The ends of the strands curl up, just a bit.

“...Okay.”

They part, readying for bed, turning away from each other to provide an illusion of privacy in their shared quarters. Yuuri turns off the lights and crawls underneath his covers, exhaustion finally settling into his bones within the cloak of darkness. Tomorrow—the last competition of his career, the culmination of his and Victor’s time together—he needs to show the world that Victor’s efforts and sacrifices hadn’t been wasted.

What just transpired feels like whiplash compared to the day prior, where Yuuri’s heart was full to bursting, how everything had felt just right, where there had been only laughter filling memories and unbridled affection. The possibility of forever.

Now, all Yuuri can see is the crashing reality of a hopeless dream.

He feels the bed dip behind him. Yuuri doesn’t object.

Instead, he rests one hand over the ones encircling his waist, rubbing his thumb back and forth over Victor’s knuckles.

Over the promise encircling Victor’s finger.

Victor slips closer, sighs into Yuuri’s hair. Tangles his legs with Yuuri’s. Soon, he is fast asleep.

It’s strange, this feeling of safety and insurmountable fear, placing your heart into someone else's care.

But this is for the best.

Yuuri stares out into the night, to the lights of Barcelona rising beneath them, watches as they blur and elongate, his tears cutting like knives, hot against his pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> So uhh...long time no see, eh?? I know. _I know_. Going for nearly a year without posting anything, ughh... I just hadn't been in a space mentally to finish anything. Although I hope to finish some things soon, and work on new things! If any of y'all stuck around, thanks so much for being patient (*^*)
> 
> YOI kinda overtook my life lolll but I ain't complaining. Kinda nervous to jump into this fandom, but I think it will be fun! Would love to hear what you thought of this short little diddle, and please come talk to me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/kaguneesan) or [tumblr](http://kanekuinke.tumblr.com)!!


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